“Excuse me,” she snapped, pushing past Dr. Jess. “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re trying to pull here, but it’s not going to work.” Snatching up a pair of latex gloves, she wrenched them on and bent close to Dev, exploring his shoulder with gentle fingers.
“Jesus Christ,” Dev hissed.
A disquieting unease pressed the oxygen from her lungs. Dev’s skin was repaired. Genuinely. Actually. No fake, no special effect. She straightened, hearing a low ringing in her ears.
And what about all of the time she’d spent with Dr. Jess in his lab three days ago? She hadn’t been able to find a single fault or error in his methods.
And the unreal glow in Dev’s eyes?
Thomal’s impossible speed? The dragon tattoo on his back made of living tissue in the form of scales?
The supernatural red light in Lorke’s eyes and his unbelievable endurance of electricity?
The palpable animal something that seemed to radiate off every man in this town?
She’d forced herself to ignore it all, to explain everything away as having been caused by a concussed brain, the stress of captivity, and logic. But here before her sat irrefutable scientific evidence. It was impossible to speed up the human body’s healing process, which meant that ….
This was real.
Exhaling forcefully, she staggered backward a step, her gloved hands fisted at her sides. She met Dev’s eyes, liquid mercury in a bottle. Incredible. Impossible.
Dev smiled, showing his … his …. “Yep, you got it now, don’t you?” he said. “Finally, Toni. Gotta be some kind of record.”
“No.” She snapped off her latex gloves and threw them on the floor. “No!”
She turned and fled.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“What now?” Jacken grumbled at the sound of someone knocking on his bedroom door. He still had a mountain of paperwork to fill out about their clash with Lorke. Not exactly a sit-at-your-desk kind of guy, he’d procrastinated the job, and didn’t want to be dealing with anyone’s bullshit. Hoisting himself up from his chair, he stalked across his bedroom and yanked open the door. Ah, crap. He dropped his brows into a dark scowl: Toni and Vinz.
“What happened?” he bit out. Had Lorke attacked again? Usually, that dickhead needed some recovery time after taking on the voltage he had, not to mention several knife wounds, but Jacken wouldn’t have been surprised if Toni’s strong scent had motivated Lorke toward more inhuman feats of dick-headedness. Besides, she looked really upset.
“She’s having some kind of freakout.” Vinz’s tone was calm, although a subtle something in his expression suggested he’d rather be fighting a horde of Om Rău than dealing with a woman in a mood. “She took off like a bat out of hell from the hospital, and I gave chase. She claims she wasn’t trying to escape, and,” he shrugged, “I believe her. Such a move would’ve been too stupid for a woman like her.”
“What set her off?”
“Beats the shit out of me.”
“I’m standing right here,” Toni remarked churlishly. “You can ask your stupid questions directly to me.”
Vinz shot Jacken a look. “She, um, insisted on talking to you.”
He raised his eyebrows. Me?
“Yes.” Toni took a step closer to the door. “Right now, Jacken.”
“Ah, okay, then ….” Vinz backed up. “You’ve got her, then, sir. Right?”
No – shit, no – he didn’t have her. He’d spent most of the last three days making all kinds of threats to himself not to get stuck alone with Toni again, especially in a bedroom. But Vinz was already heading off and – double-shit – Toni was pushing past him into his room.
He cursed in an undertone, then shut the door and leaned back against it. “Okay, so what’s up?”
She faced off with him from the middle of his room, feet braced, hands planted on her hips, her eyes fiery with the kind of stubborn determination that never seemed to work out well for him. His stomach did a slow roll over and he fought against the urge to swallow. Last time she’d worn that expression, he’d ended up spilling his guts about why he liked old movies. Yeah, this had bad written all over it.
“I need to see your fangs, Jacken.”
He straightened with a snap, the tips of his ears flaming. Jesus, “bad” did not begin to cover just how not good this was. “No, Toni. Hell no, in fact.”
“Jacken –”
“Go.” He jerked open his door again. “Out of my room. Right now. This isn’t up for debate.”
She paused a moment, then briskly crossed his room.
Thank God. She wasn’t going to put up a fight. He almost sighed in relief over the unexpected gift, although a part of him felt an odd disappointment, too. He was starting to get used to her pushing him, kind of felt like he … needed it on some level, to be more himself. Most days, it was just too easy to remain locked behind the hard shell of anger he’d erected around himself too many years ago to remember.
The last three days especially, he’d been on a downward spiral. He’d thrown three knives at his own father and gotten into a knock-down-drag-out brawl with the man, and even though he hated the bastard, he was never sure how he was supposed to feel about shit like that. So, he just didn’t. Numbness was even better than anger.
Yeah, he didn’t have to be Dr. Phil to realize that this habit was a throwback from his Oţărât days, where he’d just walked through life on autopilot, numbly waiting for the next fist to fall, the next insult to be slung, the next disappointment to crash down on him. He’d learned to stop bothering with things like hope or with trying to find moments of joy or fun.
Until Fade would draw him out.
If anyone could relate to what it was like to be born from one of the town’s biggest assholes, it was Fade.
Lorke was a huge asshole, no doubt about that; as one of the last two pure-bred Om Rău males in the world – the other being, Josnic, his co-leader of Oţărât – Lorke redefined concepts like merciless and ruthless. But somewhere in Lorke and Josnic’s fucked-up Om Rău brains they at least recognized the value of the women, especially the Dragons, and focused their brutality on the men.
Not Bollven.
He was the cruelest, most vicious son of a bitch in Oţărât when it came to the females, preying on them in particular … and Fade was his daughter. Her upbringing had been about as brutal as Jacken’s, and somewhere in the violence of their lives, they’d fostered a relationship out of their shared misery. It was probably no exaggeration to say that, if not for the care of Fade and his mother, the two women in his life, Jacken would’ve disappeared so far behind his defenses there would’ve been no coming back.
And now here was Toni – infuriating, funny, smart, so damned beautiful – the only woman in a long time who could make him want to do stupid, asinine shit like just talk. A woman he was forced to push away. A woman who was leaving right now ….
Toni grabbed the door out of his hand and slammed it shut, her eyes glinting defiantly. “Here’s the thing, Jacken. I think I believe all this stuff about vampires and demons now. Okay? All right? But I need more evidence; I want more. Are you listening to me? And everyone says you’re the only one who can control his fangs voluntarily.”
Oh, he was feeling something now. Everything. Too much. He parted his lips as he stared down into Toni’s eyes, feeling their probing effect deep in his belly. He did want to unsheathe his fangs in front of this woman, wanted it more than life, to relish the throbbing hunger he’d feel, the raw pulse of desire. Which meant he was heading up shit creek fast sans paddle. “Look –” He edged around her and crossed to his wet bar, putting some much-needed space between them. “It’s a bad idea, Toni, I’m telling you. Fangs … showing you my fangs would be like an intimacy between us.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Your fangs extrude when you fight, don’t they? That’s not intimate.”
“It’s different with a woman. Just because I can elongate my fangs without the usual stimula
tions, doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything.” Especially with you.
She crossed her arms tightly in front of her and glowered at him for a small eternity. When he didn’t budge, her lips moved in a silent curse. “Fine.” Spinning around, she grabbed the doorknob. “I’ll just go ask one of your brothers to show me.”
He didn’t know what happened. One second he was watching her pull open the door, and the next he was at the door, slamming it shut to keep her from leaving his room to go find one of his punk-ass brothers. He stared down at her with burning eyes, his breath rushing in and out of his nostrils like steam hissing from an overheated pot. A raw possessiveness he’d never felt before ate a hole straight through the bottom of his stomach.
“It’s okay,” she assured him quietly, she all of a sudden the calm one. “I’ll be very clinical about it.” She peeled his hand off the door and led him toward his desk. “The total doctor at all times.” She placed her palms on his shoulders, pushing him down into his desk chair, then stepped between the vee created by his splayed thighs.
A low, guttural growl broke from his throat.
“It’s okay,” she repeated, and bent over him, her blouse gaping open to gift him with the most spectacular view of full, soft cleavage that existed on earth, making everything most-fucking-definitely not okay. The armrests of his chair were shaped like a cello’s neck and he curled his fingers around the fancy swirls, gripping them hard. He wasn’t going to make it through this.
“Tilt your head back,” she directed, ducking her own head at the same time to peer into his mouth.
A rivulet of sweat glided down between his shoulder blades.
“I’m going to touch you now.” She edged his upper lip back with her thumb.
The gentleness of her touch rocked him down to the seat of his pants. He slid his eyes away from her, his heart trying to break past the cage of his ribs.
She straightened a bit, checking eyes with him, her fingertips resting at his lip. “They’re hollow.”
He had to swallow twice before he could speak. “They’re supposed to be hollow. That’s where the Fiinţă comes from.”
“Oh. Yes, that makes sense.” Her breasts moved up and down beneath her blouse. “Can you elongate them now?”
A sensation crept up the back of his tight throat. He wasn’t sure what it was: eagerness, fear, anticipation, alarm … lust? Definitely that, for blood. For her. “I think … I’m back to thinking this is a bad idea.” He latched his gaze onto the long, elegant vein in her neck, counting each pulse beat there.
“Do you want to smell me,” she asked softly, “to make it easier?”
No. His heart thumped. Yes.
Without waiting for an answer, she lifted her wrist to his nose. He went rigid as the perfume of her blood slammed into him like brass knuckles to the stomach, a deep moan spilling out of his chest. He’d been somewhat safe from her scent ever since she’d started wearing the mud, able to tolerate her… barely. But this close she smelled exceptional, like life’s essential elements, tangy earth and sweet water and crystal air.
Turning his head toward her, he nuzzled the soft skin of her inner wrist, pulling her scent deeply into his lungs then exhaling it past his lips. He began to shake with the feverish urge to feed on her. And then there they were. His fangs slid out of his gums slick as ivory, pulsing to the steady drumbeat of his heart. No … hers.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped. She leaned in closer, somebody help him, and gently parted his lips. Exploring one of his fangs with her thumb and forefinger, she tested how deeply rooted it was, how sharp.
She tried to be clinical, he’d give her credit for that, but there was just no getting around the effect her touch had on him. Her hand was electricity itself, the crackling heat of it passing right from her into him, racing the length of his limbs and then landing in his crotch. Thunder roared in his ears as blood rushed in the direction of his cock. Oh. Fuck. He braced himself against the inevitable agonizing back-surge that would come when that river of desire hit the dam which was built into every unmated Vârcolac’s plumbing.
When it hit, the pain of it forced a short howl out of him. He’d never felt anything so awful – and good – in his life.
Toni straightened and stared down on him.
He stared back at her, breathing as heavily as if he’d just been fighting for his life with an Om Rău. His body burned with a dangerous combination of lusts: blood hunger and the primitive desire to pound savagely between her legs. He flexed his fingers around the armrests of his chair to keep from grabbing for her.
One bite, one, and then he could be inside her.
“Your fangs are real.” She looked at him like, yes, Santa Claus did exist, but he and his elves really made Snuff Films in their workshop instead of toys. She spun on her heel and marched for his wet bar, plunking her elbows on the countertop and then burying her face in her hands.
He stared at her profile for several long seconds. “What … now?” Chrissake, was that his voice? It sounded like he’d dredged it up from a dungeon.
“I need a drink.” She abruptly walked around to the other side of the bar and crouched down, rummaging noisily through the cupboards. “Damn it, don’t you have any booze around here?”
“There’s, uh, beer in the mini fridge.” He shifted carefully in the chair, very aware of the blood still loitering in the vicinity of his cock.
She thrust rigidly to her feet, her hands landing on her hips again. “That’s it?”
“I don’t drink hard alcohol.”
She scowled at him. “Life as I know it just sort of went sayonara, Jacken. I need something a little stronger than beer.”
Yeah, okay, from here on out, he’d keep an emergency bottle of J&B stashed away because this totally sucked. She –
Whoa, something just happened to her expression. She was eyeing him with distinct speculation in her gaze now, her eyes aimed right at his … his mouth! He gave in to a spurt of alarm. If he’d had any hair on his body, every follicle would’ve been standing on end. As it was, his neck hairs were at full salute.
“You know what,” she mused. “If I’m heading down the booby hatch, anyway, I might as well go all the way, right?” She started toward him at a rapid clip.
He leapt to his feet, the chair crashing to the floor behind him, his feet tangling in the rungs as he scrambled to get away from her. He backed up at a near run.
She matched him step for step, pursuing him right into the corner.
He pressed his spine into the wall, even going up on his toes to get as far away from her as possible.
“Do you mind telling me,” he croaked out, “what’s going on?”
“Bite me.” Not as in, screw you, but in the good way.
His mouth went slack.
“The Dragons said that Fiinţă gives pleasure, and I want to know what it’s like.”
Sweat rolled into his eyelashes and he blinked at it, struggling to make some kind of coherent sound come off his vocal chords. A denial would be good at this point.
“Do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve felt any sort of pleasure?” she came at him in a tone that sounded accusing, like he should be in the penalty box for that.
“I haven’t had a boyfriend,” she went on, still hard and attacking, “for a year, and I had to fake with him!”
Did he want to know about that? No. Maybe a little. The suck-o part, at least.
“Jacken –”
“Stop talking,” he barked at her. “Vârcolac don’t have flings, Toni. I can’t just … give you pleasure without bonding to you. Permanently.” Never had a single word sounded so fatal.
“Okay.” No sooner had she spoken than her cheeks pinkened. She looked like she wanted to glance over her shoulder to see who’d actually said that.
His mouth, meanwhile, had dropped into full fly-catcher mode again. “Have you gone insane?!”
She offered up a laugh that cracked at the end. “I think we’ve already
determined that.”
“Jesus, even if I wanted to take advantage of your temporary idiocy, I couldn’t.” He worked his jaw once. “I’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”
“You’ve taken a …? Why?” She stared at him with a whole lot of you dolt showing in her expression.
He clenched his teeth briefly. “Because that was the only way I could stay in Ţărână, that’s why. Half-Rău bloodlines like mine don’t mix well with Vârcolac DNA – or with Dragons’, either, for that matter. Peak 12 skyrockets in both situations. So we three Brun Brothers were allowed to live here only if we promised never to let our tainted lineage into the community. We took the damned vow, of course.”
“But …?” Her blonde brows closed in on each other. “Can’t you just agree not to have children?”
“Mistakes happen, even with Vârcolac males, who can scent their mate’s fertile time. And vasectomies screw up our testosterone, for some weird-ass reason that even Dr. Jess can’t figure out. So, that’s it.” He chopped his hand through the air. “No women.”
She hesitated still.
He could tell that she was trying to be brave about it and accept what he was saying, but her eyes gave her away. Their blue depths were clouded with such an unbearable disappointment that now he wanted a bottle of J&B. Not to drink, but to crack over his head and escape this totally fucked situation.
He glanced away, his voice dropping into his chest. “You once accused me of hating women. I don’t, Toni. Not by a long shot. But because I can never be with one, it’s just too painful to be around them.” He looked at her again. “Can you understand that?”
“I –” A small contraction of pain crossed her features and her voice dropped to a near whisper. “Very well. I won’t bother you again.” She grabbed the knob, but then just stared at the back of the door for a long moment. “You know, the same life of loneliness stretches ahead of me, too, Jacken. You may not think so, but it does.” Her eyelashes moved against her cheeks. “I don’t have anyone to love, either.”
The Community Series, Books 1-3 Page 18